


You Got My Soft Side Showing

by reversecow



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:47:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28174896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reversecow/pseuds/reversecow
Summary: “Calum though. What says ‘I think you’re dumb’ but in a way that’ll make him fall in love with me?” Michael says, bringing the conversation around to his original point.“You could just get him something nice,” Luke tells him.Michael shakes his head, rolling it back and forth on the carpet. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Lukey. He’d do the same thing.”------------When Michael draws Calum’s name for Secret Santa, he’s determined to find the perfect cringey, jokey gift for his crush to make him laugh. But what he finds when he opens his own gift is the very last thing he’s expecting - and might turn the night into a Christmas catastrophe.
Relationships: Michael Clifford/Calum Hood
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29
Collections: 5 Seconds of Ficmas





	You Got My Soft Side Showing

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Bad Things by Social Animals

  
  
  


Michael’s been staring at Calum for too long. He knows this, he can feel the time ticking by and he knows he should look away, but the bustling around him in the bar is the perfect distraction for whoever might notice that his gaze is lingering. Besides, Calum is far too watchable tonight, his dark curly hair wild and his lips made even more pink from his drink. 

He’s laughing now, shaking his head at something Luke said, and before Michael can turn his gaze away, Calum turns towards him. He raises an eyebrow at Michael and cocks his head to the side, muttering something to Luke, who salutes him and turns towards Rena, starting up a new conversation. Calum saunters towards him, setting down his drink on the table in front of Michael and smirking, dropping to his elbows so they’re eye to eye. 

“See something you like?” he asks Michael, stirring his drink with his tiny straw. 

Michael tries not to sigh at how deep and brown his eyes are. Truthfully yes, the curve of Calum’s upper lip is beautiful and he wants to kiss him more than he wants to breathe sometimes. But he scoffs instead and puts his own chin in his hands, mirroring Calum with his elbows propped on the table. 

“Your tequila sunrise,” he tells Calum matter of factly. “What’s a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?”

Calum smiles, raising his eyebrows. “Practice his manners? Only polite people get their drinks for free,” he tells Michael patronizingly. 

Michael gasps, doing his best to look wounded. “I thought my undeniable beauty might have been enough.”

Calum shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. “Enough for some. Thankfully I’m immune to it.”

Michael pouts. “Do I have to try harder to win you over, Hood?”

Calum’s eyes widen. “Oh, this is you trying? I thought you-”

He’s interrupted by Luke’s voice echoing across the bar. “Everyone!”

Michael pouts, internally this time. He enjoys his talks with Calum more than he’d ever admit, their back and forth is always the best part of his day, when he gets to see Calum, and he’s much rather keep it going than listen to whatever Luke’s about to say to everybody. 

Unfortunately, Luke’s tapping on his beer with a fork now and Michael and Calum face his direction, waiting for the rest of their group to quiet down so they can get to the point of the interruption. 

Luke clears his throat. “Ashton and I have decided-”

Ashton interrupts him quickly. “Luke has decided.”

Luke huffs, rolling his eyes and waving Ashton’s comment off. “Okay, fine, _ I  _ decided we should all do Secret Santa this year.”

Michael frowns and leans into Calum, speaking quietly to him as Luke keeps talking. “What? I thought we were fine with everybody not getting presents for each other except for Alex and feeling kind of guilty when we accept his gifts but not quite guilty enough to give something back…”

Calum nods, shrugging and sipping his tequila. “I definitely was. I guess it’s taken a toll on Luke?”

Michael turns his attention back to Luke, who hasn’t stopped for a moment. “...we can pick names at our place on Friday and that’ll give us a week and a half to get presents. Is everyone in?”

There’s a general murmur of assent from the group. Alex looks excited, of course, and everyone else looks at least agreeable to the arrangement. 

Luke claps his hands happily. “Yay! Okay, this is great!”

Michael groans quietly. “Is it?” he mumbles, picking at a piece of old vinyl that’s curling up from the tabletop. 

Calum chuckles. “God, you’re so generous. How has nobody snatched you up yet?”

Michael flutters his eyelashes prettily. “I’m a wild stallion. I can’t be tamed.”

Calum raises his eyebrows. “You’ve got ketchup on your sweater.”

Michael looks down at his sweater and scowls when he realizes it’s the truth. He dabs in with a wet napkin for a minute until he hears Calum clear his throat and he looks up to find everyone packing up their things. Calum walks to his side of the table, nudging his shoulder gently. 

“Come on, stallion, I’ll walk you home,” he tells Michael. 

“If you insist,” Michael says delicately, taking the hand Calum offers him and hopping off his chair. 

“I always do,” Calum replies.

He always does, is the thing. No matter how far out of his way it is, Calum never fails to make sure Michael gets home safely, and it makes Michael warm and fuzzy and everything he would never ever admit, especially to Calum. They gather their things and bundle up, saying their goodbyes to their friends and tumbling out the door onto the road. 

It’s frosty outside, with a bit of wind chill, and although Michael’s happy to spend some alone time with Calum, he’s happy he’s only a few blocks from home. Nevertheless, it’s beautiful outside, the shops on the main road littered with fairy lights and the moon clear and bright in the sky. 

“So, your sociology project, how’s it going? It’s got to be due soon, right?” Calum asks him. 

He remembered. A strange thing, Michael thinks when he realizes he’s only mentioned the project once to Calum in passing. He smiles, shrugging a little and kicking a pebble so it bounces down the road ahead of them. 

“Pretty well! Avery’s slacking as usual but I’m picking it up just fine.” He crosses his arms, snuggling further into his coat as they walk. “You know me, scholar of the year.”

Calum nods. “I do. You shouldn’t overwork yourself though. You know if you ever need help…” he trails off, not finishing his sentence. 

“Thanks," Michael says, grateful for the offer. His project partner really doesn’t help much, and it would be nice to have someone-

“I’m sure Ashton would be happy to give you pointers,” Calum jokes, interrupting his train of thought. 

Michael pushes him playfully,giggling slightly as they walk up to his front door. 

Calum shivers slightly where he stands, his hair looking particularly shiny in the entryway light, Michael notes. “Well, off you get to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Michael lifts a shoulder half-heartedly. “Unfortunately.”

Calum nods. “I’m broken up about it too, but it’s the life you chose.”

“I chose Luke, not you,” Michael reminds him. It’s true, Michael had made friends with Luke in an art class they shared, and met Calum when he started coming out with him on Friday nights. Luke had known Calum for years and it was clear that if you were friends with Luke, you were friends with Calum. 

“Package deal, baby,” Calum tells him, shooting at him with finger guns. 

Michael sighs, pretending to be inconvenienced. “Tomorrow, then?” It’s half a goodbye and half a question. They don’t have plans, but they always seem to find each other somehow. Calum doesn’t answer him, though, just tips an imaginary hat before Michael is watching him walk down the street and disappear in the direction of his own home. 

\-----

A week later, Michael’s at Luke and Ashtons apartment. Everyone’s gathering there, trickling through the door one by one so they can have dinner and pick names for Secret Santa. Michael’s doing his very best not to be disappointed that it doesn’t look like Calum’s already here, hanging up his coat and scanning the room eagerly. Sure, he saw Calum a few times in the last week after the bar night, ‘accidentally’ running into him on campus and batting his eyelashes as much as humanly possible, but tonight he gets to see Calum for more than five minutes, and he’s looking forward to it. 

After scanning the room one more time, and saying hello to everyone who’s arrived before him, he makes his way to the kitchen to get a drink. He pushes open the door and his heart skips slightly when he sees Calum standing in front of the open fridge, trying desperately to open a jar of pickles. 

“Having trouble?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe in what he hopes is a cool and casual manner. 

Calum looks up, frowning and twisting the jar lid in vain. “Never.”

Michael raises his eyebrows, watching as Calum fails over and over. “What do you need pickles for?” He asks. “Aren’t we all splitting pizza tonight?”

Calum groans, shaking out his hand before going back to the jar. “I want a snack. They haven’t even ordered it yet.”

Michael cringes. “Oh god.”

“ _ I know.”  _ Calum whines. He finally sighs and hands the jar over to Michael, who takes a deep breath and twists it as hard as possible, willing for it to open with everything in him. God help him if he mocks Calum for not being able to open it and then can’t do it himself. Thankfully, the lid pops off with some effort and Michael smiles proudly, handing the jar back to Calum. 

Calum glowers at him but accepts the pickles, wagging a finger at Michael. “Don’t let that go to your head.”

Michael shrugs. “Too late. I’m amazing.”

Calum mutters something, shrugging his own shoulders while he turns to set the jar on the counter, popping a pickle in his mouth. 

“What was that?” Michael asks. 

Calum turns back around, leaning against the counter. “I said I loosened it.”

It definitely wasn’t what he said, but Michael accepts it all the same, hoping to god Calum doesn't mistake his joking for arrogance. 

“Think what you want,” he says flippantly. He hoists himself up on the counter next to Calum, taking a pickle for himself and munching on it while he swings his legs, looking at Calum. “So, Christmas.”

“What about it?” Calum questions. 

“What does your family do?” Michael asks him. “Traditions? Holiday memories? Tell me about yourself.” He holds out a pickle in lieu of a microphone, pretending to interview Calum. Calum leans forward and ust when Michael thinks he’s going to answer the question, bites into the pickle, crunching it and smiling at Michael’s taken aback expression. 

“Oh you know,” he answers after swallowing. Michael shakes his head slightly trying to rid himself of the giddy feeling he got from feeding Calum straight from his hand, even in a joking manner. “Tree, presents, cookies. Gingerbread was always my favorite.” Calum pauses, shrugging. “Maybe for the decorations, maybe for the taste, I’m not sure. I may never know.” His eyes widen conspiratorially as he munches on another pickle. 

Michael widens his eyes back. “That’s deep.”

Calum snorts. “Thanks.”

Michael opens his mouth to ask Calum’s favorite childhood present, but, as per usual, Luke’s loud voice interrupts them as the kitchen door swings open and he finds them. 

“Calum!” He says cheerily. “Michael! Picking time! Stop flirting and come here,” he waves them into the living room, skipping away in excitement. 

Michael blushes and Calum clears his throat, closing the pickle jar and putting it back in the fridge. He turns back to Michael, sticking out his pickle tongue. Michael makes a grossed out noise, feeling eternally grateful for Calum breaking the awkwardness. Obviously he was flirting, but Luke calling it out was just rude, and not something he’d like to bring attention to. 

They walk out to the room together and sit down with everyone, in a circle. Luke’s sitting in their old armchair, holding a black tophat and tapping his feet excitedly. 

Michael frowns. “Where’d you get a tophat?”

“It’s Ashton’s,” Luke tells him, and then whispers the next part, “He went through a magic phase.”

“It’s not a phase,” Ashton sniffs. “It’s a lifestyle.”

“And it’s over,” Luke tells him firmly. Ashton looks crestfallen until Luke kisses him sweetly on the cheek to pacify him. 

“Magic never dies,” he mutters delicately while Luke moves on to explain the rules. 

“Okay, we’re gonna pass the hat around,” He tells them all. “If you get your own name, you have to redraw,  _ Jack.  _ No buying presents for yourself. And no telling anyone who you got, we’re keeping this a  _ secret.  _ That’s the whole point.” He hands the hat to Ashton on his left, who digs out a small piece of paper and opens it, looking at the name and folding it up again, stuffing it in his pocket and looking pleased. 

He passes the hat to Michael, who fishes around before pulling one out and peeking at it. His heart flutters a little when he sees Calum’s name but he tries to keep him face neutral. This is perfect- another chance to create banter with Calum; and this time he has a reason! He zones out for a while, thinking about what stupid thing he could get Calum for Christmas. Maybe a Lumineers t-shirt. Calum hates them. Or a My Little Pony phone case. Something tragic like that. 

He shakes himself out of it, looking around the room where everyone’s finished picking their slips and has fallen into conversation. Ashton’s at the door paying for the pizza delivery that was finally ordered, and Michael’s eyes lock onto it when it’s set on the table just out of his reach. He hasn’t had anything but a pickle since noon. Calum nudges him gently and Michael ignores his butterflies, turning to him and raising his eyebrows.

“Well?” Calum asks. “Who’d you get?”

Michael tuts disapprovingly. “You heard Luke. It’s a genuinely _ secret _ Secret Santa.”

Calum scoffs, accepting the paper plate of pizza he’s handed by Rena and immediately handing it to Michael, who grins. “Didn’t know you were such a teacher’s pet.”

Michael smirks at this, picking a piece of pepperoni off his pizza and nibbling on it innocently. “I could be your pet if you play your cards right.”

Calum giggles, shaking his head and taking the next plate he’s handed, keeping this one for himself. “I bet you say that to all the boys.”

Michael gasps. “Ouch, Cal.” He takes a bite of his food, narrowing his eyes. “Who’d  _ you _ get, anyways?”

Calum shakes his head as he picks all the olives off his pizza and huddles them in a pile closer to the crust. “I’m no snitch.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “What, you won’t snitch on yourself?”

“Nah, I’m loyal to him,” Calum says. 

Michael shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He gestures to Calum’s pizza curiously. “Why did you put all the olives there?”

“Save the best for last,” Calum says matter of factly, as if Michael should have known that the olives were the best part of a pizza. 

Michael hums. “Is that why nobody ever picked me for team sports in gym class?”

Calum snorts quietly. “I’m gonna take a shot in the dark and say no.”

“You wound me,” Michael tells him.

Calum winks back, biting into his pizza. “I try.”

He’s going to get the world’s dumbest present, if it’s the last thing Michael does. 

\-----

“Luke, it has to be garbage, but it has to be perfect, you know?” Michael says. He’s lying on the floor of Luke and Ashton’s bedroom, watching him paint his nails baby pink. The sunlight is trickling through the window beautifully, illuminating Luke’s hair like a halo. He looks every bit the picture of innocence. Michael would believe it if he hadn’t watched Luke steal a package of Famous Amos out of a vending machine merely two hours ago. 

“No, I don't,” Luke replies, blowing on his thumbnail gently. “Why can’t you get him something nice?”

Michael sighs. Luke wouldn’t understand. He’s too sweet and mushy. All of his presents for Ashton are always meaningful and sentimental, and he was probably the wrong person to ask advice from. “Because, that’s not how we are. If I got him something nice he’d suspect I was like, into him or something.”

Luke fixes him with a withering stare. “But you are.”

Michael nods. “And he can never know.” 

“You know what  _ I  _ wasn’t supposed to know?” Luke asks him. “Who you even  _ got  _ for Secret Santa. That’s the whole point of the ‘secret’ part.” He exaggerates the word secret with air quotes, quickly checking his polish to make sure he didn’t ruin it with his sudden movement. 

Michael waves him off. “Please, I figured out who you and Alex have already. Secret Santa is never actually secret.”

Luke sighs. “Okay fine. What do I get Jack?”

Michael gasps. “Ah, so it’s Jack!”

Luke’s mouth drops open in dismay. “What! You said you knew!”

Michael wags a finger at him condescendingly. “Never trust me, rule number one. Also, get him a back massager, he’s been complaining for weeks about his being broken.”

“Fine…” Luke grumbles, carefully twisting the cap back on his bottle of polish and setting it on his side table. 

“Calum though. What says ‘I think you’re dumb’ but in a way that’ll make him fall in love with me?” Michael says, bringing the conversation around to his original point. 

“You could just get him something nice,” Luke tells him.

Michael shakes his head, rolling it back and forth on the carpet. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Lukey. He’d do the same thing.”

Luke shrugs. “If you say so. Can’t help you with that though, I’m not rude.”

Michael sighs. “If only. What about some ugly shoelaces?” He ponders. “Or a perfume that smells terrible? Or are those not obvious enough? He’d just think I have bad taste.”

“You’re hopeless”, Luke looks at Michael with a challenging expression. “What do you want from Calum?”

“Huh?” Michael asks dumbly. 

Luke raises his eyebrows. “Like, what do you  _ want _ from him? Do you want to date him? Or just hook up with him, or do you just want to be stuck in a limbo of flirty teasing that never ends and leaves you both unsatisfied and mopey, lying on my bedroom floor talking about each other?”

Michael tries not to think about how that sounds like Calum’s done this before, too. It’s probably not what Luke meant, and he doesn’t want to get his hopes up. Truthfully, he’s scared. Because he does want Calum, he wants everything with him, and the thought that maybe Calum wouldn’t want him back in the same way is too hard to stomach. He’d never say that out loud, but if the way Luke is looking at him is any indication, he already knows. 

Michael shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says quietly, pulling on a loose thread from Luke’s carpet.

“I think you do,” Luke says knowingly.

“Okay, say I do know and it’s not the last thing you said,” Michael tells him, “there’s just too much risk involved. Which is why the present can’t be nice, he’d suspect something was off. He’d suspect I want to  _ date  _ him.”

“Which you do?” Luke confirms.

“Yes, obviously,” Michael says.

Luke shakes his head. “I don’t know, Mike. This seems like the perfect opportunity to do something nice for him, show him you care for him.”

“It’s just too soon, Lukey. I’ll get him, like, a really nice St. Patrick’s Day present or something. I just need more time,” Michael tells him.

“I get it. I really do,” Luke says, “Telling someone how you feel can be one of the hardest things in the world to do. I just don't want you to give him the wrong impression, you know?”

“Trust me, Luke, I know what i’m doing,” Michael says confidently. “Like I said, he’d do the same thing. Trust me.”

Luke just shrugs, twisting open a bottle of top coat carefully and starting to paint his left thumbnail. Michael settles further into the carpet, if possible, and falls into a new daydream. 

\-----

Calum bothers him on this park bench all the time, Michael thinks to himself. He knows it’s a stop Michael frequents, almost every day around noon when he doesn’t have a class. He likes the grass here, it looks a little greener than it does everywhere else. The bench is never covered in dew past seven in the morning because the sun hits it just right, and it’s far enough away from the main path that he can pretend he isn’t eavesdropping on everyone’s conversations. He’s been doing less eavesdropping, though, in the last few months, because as soon as Calum found out he was sending his time there, he’s hardly ever alone. In fact, it’s only a matter of time before-

“All by your lonesome?”

Michael smiles to himself, fist pumping in his head before he turns to Calum, eyebrows raised in mock annoyance. 

“I was,” he replies. “Enjoying it, too, but I guess you can make yourself comfortable.” He shrugs and gestures to the bench next to him, trying his hand at nonchalance. 

Calum makes himself very comfortable, sitting on the bench and crossing his legs, facing Michael and opening a bag of whoppers, nibbling the chocolate carefully off the outside of one of them. “Project still going well?” he asks, gesturing to Michael’s laptop. 

Michael shrugs. “No idea. I’ve given up control. Could be a bad move but I’m very invested in Secret Santa right now.” He turns his laptop so Calum can see him shopping on Etsy. It’s actually not for Secret Santa, he was looking for a gift for his mom, but he’s illustrating a point. Calum’s gift has proven to be the hardest to find by far. 

“Ah,” Calum nods. “Who’d you get?”

Michael rolls his eyes. "I told you, that’s confidential.”

Calum sighs. “Ah, still playing it like that. Well, whoever it is, I feel sorry for them.”

“Hey!” Michael protests, offended. 

“Only because it’ll never be as good as what I’m getting for mine,” Calum explains, crunching a whopper. 

“Is that so?” Michael asks, crossing his arms challengingly. 

“It is so,” Calum confirms. “Anyways, I’m off to class. Have fun getting your shit present.” He stands up, dusting off his sweats and salutes Michael with a wink.

“Watch me!” Michael shouts at him while he walks away. He’s got no idea how right he is. 

\-----

He’s been at it for hours. The shops are going to close soon and he’s still empty handed, walking around aisle after aisle, shop after shop. Nothing seems to jump out at him in the right way, nothing that perfectly embodies the whimsically insulted feeling he wants Calum to get when he unwraps his gift. He pulls out his phone and dials Luke’s number. 

_ “What’s up? _ ” Luke answers, clearly yawning through the phone. 

“Do you think he’d hate a camo mouse pad?” Michael asks, staring at the shelf like he’s willing the object to solve his problems easily and for twelve dollars. 

_ “I think anyone would hate a camo mouse pad,”  _ Luke counters, and he’s probably right. Which means it’s not the right gift. Even though it’s going to be terrible, it’s going to be personal, because that’s the whole point of a Christmas gift. 

“It doesn’t feel right,” Michael decides, shaking his head and moving on. 

_ “Yeah, cause it sucks,”  _ Luke says, sounding even more tired than he did when he’d first picked up. 

Michael huffs, “No, cause it doesn’t suck in the right way. How am I supposed to-” he gasps, ducking behind a shelf quickly. He’d just caught a glimpse of very familiar curly dark hair weaving through the aisles. Calum looks like he’s picked something out already, he’s heading to the till and Michael watches him pay for something and thank the cashier. She laughs and tosses her hair over her shoulder. Michael rolls his eyes.

“ _ Michael? Are you still there? Are you listening to me at all? I swear sometimes it’s like talking to a brick wall.” _

“That’s just because of my extensive muscle mass, Lukey. You’ll get used to it,” Michael says, straightening up once he sees Calum leave. He stretches his back and rolls his head around, glancing to his right quickly. Then glancing again. In the corner of the shop, sitting right next to him, innocent as can be, is the ugliest stuffed bunny he’s ever seen. Its eyes are slightly crooked and it’s nose is too big for its face. Its fur is inexplicably sparkly, catching the light in a gaudy and unnecessary way that only draws attention to the fact that the color of said fur is neither white nor brown, more like a dirty blonde that just looks wholly unnatural. It’s unattractive, and unappealing, and it's absolutely perfect. 

“I’ve got it,” he says to Luke triumphantly. “I’ll call you back.”

\-----

_ Dear Calum, _

_ Merry Christmas from your Secret Santa! As soon as I saw this I knew you had to have it. The desperation in its marble eyes reminded me of yours. I almost got you something serious for this but then I thought nope, you get the ugliest bunny in the world. It’s what you get for pointing out that ketchup stain on my sweater at the bar. What goes around comes around, as they say… _

_ Anyways, have fun with your gross new companion. I’ll see you around. Probably bothering me on the bench I claimed a long time ago.  _

_ xoxo _

_ Michael _

Michael clicks his pen and reads over his note, nodding. It’s almost too mean, but he thinks the xoxo at the end makes up for it pretty well. He grins, folding up the letter and taping it to the package he’d wrapped in elf printed paper for Calum, setting it to the side and stretching. The gift exchange is tomorrow, and Michael knows it’s going to be hard to sleep tonight, thinking about Calum unwrapping his gift. 

\-----

He looks perfect. Michael’s been watching him while he talks to Alex by Luke and Ashton’s fireplace, holding a glass of eggnog and looking beautiful, illuminated by the twinkling lights of the tree. Michael’s slightly nervous. He knows he got the right thing, knows Calum will appreciate the joke, but a part of him is still nervous to watch him open it. Then again, Calum makes him nervous in general, so that’s not surprising. 

The thing is, it feels almost like he’s being avoided. Which is odd, because he hasn’t done anything, at least not yet. But every time he gets closer, Calum seems to magically be moving away from him. Every conversation he starts ends after a minute, when Calum suddenly remembers something he has to tell Ashton immediately. And every time Calum catches him looking, instead of sticking his tongue out at Michael or flipping him off, he looks down. He’s almost acting shy, but Michael knows him better than that. At least he thinks he does. 

Luke claps his hands next to Michael’s face and he flinches, giving him an exasperated look. Luke smiles back. “Okay, it’s time! Ashton, you hand out that pile, I’ll get these,” he says excitedly, grabbing a few of the presents closest to him. “Everyone sit in a circle, come on!” 

“”We’re not doing this one by one, are we?” Calum asks. “Cause those Secret Santas suck.”

“No, I’m not a monster, Cal,” Luke tells him. “Everyone open when you get yours!”

Michael watches as Ashton hands Calum his present but he ends up getting distracted when he’s handed his own. It’s slightly crumpled but it’s wrapped in cute paper covered in Snoopy wearing a Santa hat and topped with a shiny red bow. Michael turns it over and finds the card attached, which has his name written on it in loopy scrawl. He flips it open and starts to read.

_ Michael, _

_ There’s a lot I could say. I’ve been dancing around saying most of it for months, but I figured there’s no time like Christmas for a confession. I like you. Like a lot, and I’ve chickened out on saying it so many times I probably have feathers at this point.  _

_ I think you’re probably the cutest person I’ve ever seen in my life, and talking to you every day is something I look forward to more than I can tell you. I find myself going out of my way to see you time and time again.  _

_ I don’t know if you feel the same way. I’m hoping to god you do, and I’ll probably be so nervous all night before you open this, thinking about what you’re going to think of it.  _

_ I wanted to get you something that represents you- cute, cuddly and soft. I hope you like it. Maybe we can talk after the gift exchange. Or, if this goes badly and my feelings are one sided, maybe I’ll bury my head in the sand for a couple years. We’ll see.  _

_ Merry Christmas _

_ Calum _

Butterflies erupt in Michael’s stomach. He quickly glances up at Calum, but he’s still reading Michael’s card. He feels a twinge of regret that he got Calum a joke gift when clearly Luke was right and he could have taken the opportunity at hand to tell Calum how he felt, but it’s too late now. He’ll talk to Calum after the exchange, like the note says. He feels giddy though, restless as he carefully unwraps the crumpled paper off his gift to see what Calum got him. 

His heart sinks. There, wrapped up in the crumpled Snoopy wrapping paper, is the very same stuffed bunny he’d gotten for Calum. As a  _ joke.  _ Anxiety rises in his chest and he looks up to where Calum is sitting, staring down into the open box at his present. His ears are red and he’s biting his lip hard. Michael feels like throwing himself off a cliff, or he would if that would be enough punishment for how he’s made Calum feel tonight.

He watches, horrified, as Calum carefully puts the lid back on the box and stands up, hurriedly exiting the room with his gift and his jacket. The others don’t notice, too preoccupied with their own exchanges to pay him mind. Michael sets his own rabbit on the floor, hurrying after him as quickly as he can, dodging Jack, who’s lying on the floor testing his new back massager. 

Calum is long gone by the time he gets to the front door, probably on his way home, and Michael’s heart sinks as he looks out into the cold night, wondering how he could have let himself ruin something that could have been everything he’s ever wanted. 

\-----

Michael’s depressed. It’s been two days since Secret Santa and he hasn’t done much but mope on his couch. He visited his bench the day after the party, stayed there for a couple hours, even, but Calum didn’t come. He doesn’t blame him, really. Michael wouldn’t have come either if he was Calum. 

It’s a Wonderful Life is playing on his TV and Michael is nibbling on a biscuit miserably, buried in a pile of blankets when his phone rings. He picks it up from in between two blankets, sighing when he sees a Facetime request from Luke. He rolls his eyes but accepts the call. Luke is in the kitchen, cooking something that looks, as usual, like inedible mush. Michael wrinkles his nose. 

“What do you need,” he asks Luke. 

Luke sticks the pyrex dish in the oven and sets the timer. “ _ You _ need to go say sorry to him.”

Michael groans, shaking his head and rolling pathetically in his blankets. “I can’t, he hates me.”

Lucke sighs. “No he doesn’t, you read the card. He opposite of hates you.”

“He  _ did _ ,” Michael clarifies. “Until I ruined everything with that stupid rabbit.” He pouts, chomping on his biscuit, a couple of crumbs landing on his collar. He picks them off, eating them both one by one. 

Luke frowns. “The rabbit doesn’t change anything.” He raises his eyebrows, nodding his head and thinking it over. “I mean, it might have wounded his pride a little bit but it won’t change the way he feels. He probably just feels embarrassed right now, but when do you not make him feel embarrassed? And he still liked you after all the other times.”

Michael huffs, shrugging.

“Remember when you found that picture of him with the blond afro and made copies and handed them out to everyone we knew?” Luke reminds him. “If he still liked you after that he’ll like you after this.”

He makes a point. At least, Michael hopes he does. And for the next hour, while he watches Luke make his mush and talk to him about the new ice skating rink that just opened up at the mall, he starts thinking up a plan to make things right again. 

\-----

He forgot his gloves. His fingers are freezing as he clutches the tupperware carefully. Walking up the stairs to the door of Calum’s apartment is nerve-wracking, he can feel his heart beating and when he reaches the door and knocks, he swears he can hear it, too. He waits a moment before he knocks again, shifting on his feet and biting his lip. He’s not home. Michael sighs and turns around, starting down the steps again. He makes it down three of them before he hears the door open and his heart jumps to his throat.

He turns around slowly, gulping when he sees Calum standing in the doorway, looking curious and, heartbreakingly, a little embarrassed. He’s in flannel pajamas and he’s holding a mug of something, looking down at it when Michael meets his eyes. Michael blinks, clutching his tupperware harder. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, unable to stand the look on Calum’s face. 

Calum frowns down at his mug, looking a little confused before his eyes meet Michael’s and he responds in a low, inquisitive tone. “For what?”

Michael shrugs his shoulders, trying his best to come up with a sentence that’s as vague as possible so as to save Calum any further embarrassment. “For ruining everything at Secret Santa.”

Calum shakes his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just shouldn’t have said anything, clearly I misread some signals I thought were being sent.”

Micael furrows his brows, shaking his head back at Calum and walking up a few steps so they’re at least on even ground. “What do you mean?”

Calum looks back down before he takes a deep breath, and Michael can see him flush pink under the porch light before he talks. “I mean I shouldn’t have said anything. It was stupid, I ruined our friendship and I didn’t mean to-”

Michael cuts him off quickly. “You didn’t ruin anything. I did, I should have found something else for you, something that meant more, I should have done what you did and told you how I felt but I had to make it a joke and I hurt your feelings and I’m so sorry,” he rushes out.

Calum looks back up at him, his expression hesitant and slightly hopeful before he asks, “How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” Michael tells him, “I’m so sor-”

“No, how do you feel about  _ me,”  _ Calum interrupts, sounding slightly exasperated, and Michael is over the moon to hear an echo of playfulness in his voice, reassuring him that they haven’t lost themselves. 

“Oh,” he says softly. He shifts on his feet, feeling suddenly shy, even knowing he isn’t about to get turned down. Something about Calum always makes him nervous. “I feel like...I really like you. A lot. And I like the way we are, I like teasing you too but I want to kiss you and make you laugh and date you and I really really hope you didn’t change your mind.”

Calum grins. “You do?”

Michael shrugs. “I won’t lie, you have bad taste in stuffed animals but you’re funny and you’re smart and you’re pretty and you’re the only person I would ever  _ bake  _ for, so…”

He holds out the tupperware in his hands, immediately crossing his arms, feeling shy, once Calum has it. Calum sets his mug down carefully on the ground and opens the lid. 

“Gingerbread?” he asks, smiling softly. 

“Gingerbread men,” Michael clarifies. “You, um, said it was your favorite.”

Calum doesn’t say anything, just stares down at the cookies and Michael clears his throat. 

“I gave them little bowties,” he supplies. 

Calum grins, shaking his head. He carefully puts the lid back on the tupperware and sets it next to his mug by his feet. Michael barely has time to wonder what he’s going to do next before he’s being pulled into a hug. Calum is warm and soft and Michael melts into him. He smells like pine and Christmas spices and everything lovely and Michael can’t believe he almost lost out on this over a gift exchange. 

“Thank you,” Calum whispers into his sweater, and Michael grins, pulling back to press a soft kiss to his lips. Calum’s eyes are sparkling and his cheeks even redder than before, looking at Michael with complete contentment. Then his eyes narrow and he pokes Michael in the side. 

“It wasn’t that ugly,” he says. 

Michael leans in to kiss his cheek, his nose, and his lips again before he responds. “Agree to disagree.”

Calum doesn’t seem too bothered by it, though, just picks up his mug and the cookies. He gestures to Michael to come with him, disappearing into the warmth of his twinkling living room. Michael follows, closing the door behind him, feeling for the first time in a long while like he can breathe easy. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought in the comments! I always appreciate feedback so much :)


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